


Tiger Balm

by magicstrengthcourage



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Office, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 17:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30042303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicstrengthcourage/pseuds/magicstrengthcourage
Summary: DC Emerson Kent has always had a thing for DI Joseph Chandler, but he'll never act on it. Will he?Takes place immediately after Series 4, Episode 6.
Relationships: Joseph Chandler & Emerson Kent, Joseph Chandler/Emerson Kent
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Tiger Balm

The pieces of paper fluttered to the floor at Chandler’s feet. He was only dimly aware of Ray Miles’ silhouette standing in the doorway to his office, and the hush that had fallen beyond. His heart beat crazily in his chest, but he couldn’t control his breathing. His hands shook uncontrollably and his temples throbbed but he couldn’t contemplate reaching for the tiger balm. He wanted to scream. He wanted to open his mouth as wide as it would possibly go and scream at this failure. He wanted to scream at mystics, and clairvoyants, and at the overwhelming sense of reality slipping from his grasp.

Miles stared at his friend. Someone needed to be with the boss, but someone also had to sort out this mess. There was little he could do about the van, but he had a few ideas about how to deal with Louise Iver if she ever tried to set foot, claw, hoof, _anything_ inside his Police station again.

Miles let his hands drop from the doorframe and slowly turned around. The team were frozen in place, staring at him, all except DC Kent whose eyes had strayed over Miles’ shoulder and into the DI’s office. Ray looked down at the floor for a moment, and then back at his team. His cry of rage had startled them all, and they were none the wiser as to what had happened. Ray cleared his throat and looked around the room. For a moment he wondered how to put everything into words, and then simply decided not to. He was angry, and tired, and angry that he was tired.

Mansell, Buchan, and Riley watched him walk to the door. As he passed Riley’s desk she put a hand out and lightly touched his shoulder. “Skip… what’s happened?”

Miles squeezed her hand, gave her a sad smile, and left the Incident Room.

Buchan closed his eyes and said softly “Oh, god, no.” Mansell caught Riley’s eye and frowned at her. Riley picked up her desk phone and dialled the control room.

Kent, meanwhile, was watching his boss carefully. At that moment, he didn’t really care what had happened. He knew it would be bad news, but whatever it was, it wasn’t as important to him as the DI was.

Riley listened to the operator in disbelief. “Right, thank you.” She put the phone down slowly and picked up her coat and handbag. “Finley,” she said shakily, “with me.” Mansell didn’t move but opened his mouth to speak. Riley cut him off before he could start. “Now. I’ll explain on the way.” She left the room without waiting for an answer. Mansell looked around at Buchan and Kent for some sort of explanation. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then left the room, shrugging his coat on as he went.

Buchan, who had flopped into a chair while Riley was on the phone, looked slowly up at Kent. “I…I’ll need to go downstairs and look at Wingfield’s research again…” Kent didn’t reply. Buchan padded softly out of the room, stopping briefly at the door and turning off the main lights.

Kent stood transfixed. Chandler hadn’t moved a muscle. He was sat at his desk, with his elbows propped up and his head in his hands. Kent watched his broad shoulders rise and fall quickly. He dug his nails into his palms and bit his lip. Kent ached to go in and comfort Chandler; to walk in and say or do exactly the right thing and make everything okay; but he couldn’t think of what to say, or what to do. He didn’t know if Chandler wanted to be on his own, or if he wanted company. There was always the chance that Chandler might snap at him, and he wasn’t sure he could take that.

Kent knew Chandler often stayed late, after everyone else had gone home and all the lights were switched off. It was a well-known fact that the DI often stayed late to clean up after his team, but not many besides Kent knew just how often that happened. Kent stayed late most nights, busying himself with odd jobs around the station, always in the hope that he would pop back into the Incident Room to get his coat and find Chandler alone in his office. He had lost count of how many times that had happened. Each time, he would stop at the door and look back at the DI’s office. Through the glass panelled door he would see his boss, sitting at his desk. Often reading, or sorting through files. Sometimes Kent thought he could see a glass of whisky on the desk. Each time, Kent would peel himself away and spend the evening at home letting his imagination run wild. He let himself fantasise about opening that office door and being invited in with one of those gorgeous smiles. Getting to know his boss, sharing a drink with him, crawling under his desk…

He jolted himself back to the present and found his hands were squeezing the back of his office chair. Chandler still hadn’t moved. Kent looked around and realised he was alone in the office, with only the light of a few desk lamps illuminating the room.

_Emerson Kent,_ he thought to himself, _why is it you’ve got no problem throwing yourself into dangerous situations at work, but you’ve never taken a risk in your personal life? Ever?_

_Because nobody’s been worth the risk before._

_If you don’t do this now, you never will. Could you live with not knowing?_

Shaking his head he took a deep breath, straightened his waistcoat, and went to put the kettle on.

Chandler couldn’t control his breathing. He knew that the body could only sustain a state of heightened anxiety for twenty minutes. After that, it physically ran out of the hormones needed to maintain that level of stress. He had no idea if it had been twenty minutes, but it felt as though he had been sitting like this for twenty hours. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he hoped Miles was taking care of the situation, because he just didn’t feel up to it. He had heard the door to the incident room open and close several times, and he was glad to be alone. Sort of. He assumed the team were out looking into what had happened.

_What had happened?_

Whatever it was, if it really _had_ happened (because he was having doubts about whether this was even reality now) it was something to do with Louise Iver. He inhaled and exhaled rapidly through his hands and thought of his father’s warning again. Why didn’t he open it earlier? Because he thought it would be a load of old rubbish, that’s why. He’d watched his mother open dozens of letters and notes ‘from his father’ and each time she was disappointed and heartbroken all over again. Fresh grief rolled in waves through his childhood home—

The sound of his office door startled him out of his thoughts. He didn’t move, hoping Miles would see that he wanted to be left alone. He heard a chair being moved, and he caught the scent of something familiar and welcome. There was a click nearby, and then silence.

Kent put the chair softly near Chandler’s and set the glass mug down on the desktop. He waited a beat, and then gingerly reached out and took Chandler’s nearest arm by the wrist, guiding it away from his face. Chandler didn’t resist but instead let his arm drop into his lap, his eyes still closed but his breathing slowing. Kent reached out and picked up the tiny jar of tiger balm. He quietly unscrewed the lid, closing his eyes as the familiar smell hit him. He dipped two fingers into the jar and swiped them over the cool balm; an action he’d watched Chandler’s long fingers perform many times. With his heart in his mouth, he placed his fingers gently under Chandler’s chin, and turned his face.

Chandler opened his eyes, startled, and saw Kent’s face in the light from the window. His desk lamp had been switched off, and he could smell green tea and tiger balm. Kent was looking down at his fingers, rubbing them together. He watched Kent slowly raise his hands up towards him and before he had a chance to wonder what was happening he felt the cool menthol of his beloved tiger balm touch his temples. Chandler took a deep, shaky breath and let his eyes close.

Kent smiled to himself, slowly circling his fingers on Chandler’s skin. He knew Chandler never rubbed the balm in completely, but he couldn’t stop himself from tracing a few more circles and prolonging the contact. His heart was thumping and adrenaline was coursing through him. He could feel himself flushing, and he was glad he had turned the lamp off. He suddenly thought about how close their faces were in that moment. His first thought was to lean in and kiss the DI, and his second was that he should have had a mint before he came in. Kent stopped circling Chandler’s temples and lowered his hands. On the way down he let the backs of his fingers brush Chandler’s cheek. Chandler’s hand suddenly grabbed Kent’s.

Kent inhaled sharply.

_Shit, I’ve gone too far. Fuck._

His eyes darted to look at Chandler’s hand gripping his. Almost as if in slow motion, Chandler’s hand turned Kent’s and held the palm against his cheek. Kent could feel Chandler’s breath on his wrist. His heart raced. He bit his lip and internalised a moan.

Chandler opened his eyes and released his grip on Kent’s hand. He looked away sheepishly, aware that Kent was inches from his face, staring at him intently. Kent reached out, picked up the glass mug of tea, and silently pressed it into Chandler’s hands. Chandler looked down at the green tea, and then flashed Kent a smile. Kent melted into his seat.

_That smile._

Chandler took a sip and exhaled through his nose. Restorative and calming. Between that, the tiger balm working wonders on his headache, and Kent’s presence, he felt more like his old self. He looked up. Kent was looking down into his lap, twisting his fingers together.

“Thank you for this.”

Kent looked up, his big brown eyes meeting Chandler’s deep blue. He shrugged and smiled. “It’s okay, Sir. Figured you needed it.”

The two men smiled at each other for a moment, then both looked away. Kent desperately didn’t want to push his luck. He was still trying to process what had happened, and what it meant for their relationship. He knew Chandler was the kind of person who felt easily overwhelmed, and he was on a knife edge as it was. Kent cleared his throat quietly and shuffled his chair back, “I should, um, probably go—”

“No, stay. Please.” Chandler’s hand was on his knee in a flash.

Kent looked down at the hand and then up at Chandler. He couldn’t quite believe it. He felt dizzy with happiness. His confidence buoyed by Chandler’s touch; he pulled his chair in even closer. Chandler took his hand back. “Thank you.”

Kent was burning with the desire to do something utterly reckless. He just had to establish one thing – did Chandler want company, or did he want _Kent’s_ company? He needed a test.

Kent nodded towards the cup in Chandler’s hands. “I’ve never tried green tea. What’s it like?”

Chandler smiled and gave a soft snort of disbelief. “Really? You’ve never tried green tea?”

Kent shook his head. “I’m more of a coffee man.”

Chandler held out the cup to Kent. “Try some. I’m not sure you’ll like it, but at least you’ll have broadened your horizons a bit.”

Kent felt a tug behind his navel. This was it. Chandler was an absolute germaphobe. There was no way he would consider sharing a drink with just anyone. Kent took the cup, deliberately brushing Chandler’s long fingers as he did. He turned the mug and took a sip from the exact spot where Chandler’s lips had rested. He looked up over the rim and gauged Chandler’s reaction. His face was soft, and the way he was looking at Kent made Kent’s stomach turn somersaults. He lowered the cup, swallowed, and licked his lips. “Mmm, it’s nice. Refreshing.” He passed the mug back. Chandler took the cup without looking. He was staring at Kent’s mouth.

Kent had tested him. He could hardly imagine the DI sharing a cup of tea with DS Miles, or DC Mansell. It was him, Kent, that Chandler wanted. The thought sent a shiver through him.

Kent took the mug from Chandler’s hands and placed it on the desk. He leaned forwards, slowly, but with absolute determination. He could have sworn that Chandler’s eyes closed even before their lips touched. To Kent’s surprise, Chandler angled his head slightly and deepened the kiss. One hand curled around the back of Kent’s neck, the other gripped Kent’s tie and pulled him in closer.

Kent didn’t supress the next moan. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. He could think of several things he’d like to do with them but unbuckling the DI’s belt might be taking things too fast and ripping off his shirt would probably only irritate someone like Chandler. Kent didn’t know when, if, this moment would ever come again, and he was determined to make the most of it. He squeezed Chandler’s thigh, ran a hand under his waistcoat feeling the toned body beneath, and scrunched his fingers in Chandler’s soft blonde hair.

Neither of them knew how much time passed, but slowly Kent pulled back for air. Chandler held him close by his tie, their foreheads still pressed together. Kent couldn’t supress a soft laugh, his face stretched into an ecstatic grin. Chandler stroked the younger man’s face and returned the giggle. They stayed like that for a while, just mapping each other’s face.

Kent had caught his breath and was eager to dive in for more. He leaned in and slowly ran his tongue over Chandler’s bottom lip. He’d fantasised about doing it for years, and hell would freeze over before he passed up the opportunity. He heard Chandler’s soft, sharp intake of breath and smiled. He gently tugged the DI’s bottom lip with his teeth. Chandler breathed his name and leaned into him. They kissed again, hands running over skin and tangling in hair. Kent thought he might explode.

The door to the Incident Room opened and the two men sprang apart. Kent whimpered. “Go,” Chandler whispered, “back to your desk.” Kent hurried from the room, attempting unsuccessfully to disguise his impaired walk. Chandler stifled a smile at the sight, then saw DS Miles striding down the room towards his office. The DI cleared his throat and pulled his chair right in under the desk, as far as it could go. Miles knocked twice on the doorframe and entered just as Chandler clicked his desk lamp back on. “Boss,” he began “I’ve spoken to the uniform who were with the witnesses down at the scene. It’s definitely her, Louise Iver. She walked out in front of the van, the van swerved and hit a lorry full of flammable material. No survivors.” Miles frowned. “What’s that chair doing over there?”

Chandler glanced at the chair to his right. “Oh, I, wanted to put my feet up for a while.” Miles raised his eyebrows at the DI. “You, put your feet up on a perfectly good chair? The man who can’t keep still when he sees someone do that on the tube?” Chandler flushed slightly. “Never mind that, Miles, where are the rest of the team?” “Mansell and Riley are down at the scene, Buchan’s in his lair, and Kent’s making tea.” “Right, I want you to phone Riley and tell her that she and Mansell can go home. And go down to Buchan and tell him the same. Everyone can write up their reports tomorrow, including you. There’s nothing else we can do tonight.”

Miles nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s probably for the best. Everyone’s tired and scared out of their wits about this. You look better though. Change your shirt?” Chandler smiled. “Something like that.” Miles picked up the chair and moved it back to the opposite side of the desk, still frowning at it. “Right, well, night then boss. Don’t stay here too late.” “I won’t, I’ll be leaving in a minute.”

Kent, who had been listening to the entire conversation, slumped a little in his seat. He had been hoping they could pick up where they had left off, but now he was starting to think that might have been it. Now, the DI was going to realise how horribly inappropriate it had all been, and tell Kent he was being transferred. Miles stopped at Kent’s desk. Kent crossed his legs. “You get yourself home, too.” Miles said. Kent nodded. “I will, Skip, I’ve just got a couple of things to do here and then I’ll go.” Miles clapped Kent on the shoulder and left the Incident Room.

The door closed behind him and the room was silent. Kent didn’t dare look into Chandler’s office.

“DC Kent, my office, please.”

_See, there we go. It’s DC Kent now, nice and formal. Wonder where I’ll be moved to?_

Kent stood up and closed the distance between his desk and the DI’s office. His hands were trembling slightly. Chandler was looking up at him with a straight face. “Kent, we need to talk. I’ve had a think and it’s probably best if you’d consider moving—”

“No, Sir, please. Look, it won’t happen again, I promise. You don’t have to move me.”

“But I do, Kent. This can’t continue here, I hoped you would understand that.”

“I do, Sir. I do understand, but you don’t have to transfer me off of the team.”

“Kent, I’m moving you out of this station. Immediately.”

Kent’s shoulders sagged.

“By car.”

_What?_

“To my flat.”

Kent looked up at the DI and his stomach flipped. Chandler’s eyes were blazing and he was wearing the most incredible smile Kent had ever seen.

“Sign here if you agree that I get to choose the film.” Chandler pushed a blank piece of paper across the desk, laughing.

Kent had a flash of the two of them, shirtless, entwined on a posh leather sofa, not caring which film played in the background as they kissed. He lurched forward, grabbed a pen, and scribbled his signature. Then he carefully placed the pen back in the correct position on the desk and looked up at the DI. Chandler leant over the desk, wrapped Kent’s tie around his hand, and reeled him in for a slow kiss. When they broke, Chandler picked up his coat. Kent clicked off the desk lamps and collected his own leather jacket.

As they walked out together, neither man wearing his coat but holding it in front of him, Kent couldn’t keep his eyes off of Chandler. Chandler looked down at him. “Why do you look so surprised?” Kent smiled. “I never thought this would happen.” Chandler smirked at him. “Really? _You_ invited _me_ for a drink, and I said yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> No prompt. All writing is my own.


End file.
